


Grocery Run Hiccup

by NachtGraves



Series: Errant Errands-verse [1]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone is alive and human, Fake Out Make Out, M/M, Making Out, hinata and nanami are childhood friends, no despairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime’s on a late night run for ‘emergency supplies’ for Chiaki and bumps into a certain baby-faced yakuza who’s running from some people that may or may not want to kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grocery Run Hiccup

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://nachtgraves.tumblr.com). Orz for the ooc-ness. I just really craved a fake out make out fic with these two.

Hajime grumbles to himself as he walks under flickering street lights, a plastic bag of ice cream, chocolate, painkillers, and pads swinging at his side. He wishes he wasn’t used to these emergency runs, but with Chiaki as aloof as she’s been for as long as he can remember, it’s no surprise he knows her period better than the girl – sitting comfortably, _warm_ , in _his_ house – herself. At least while he’s out getting the ‘emergency supplies’, he’s not subject to his mother and even father heavily hinting – a severe understatement – about how pleased they’d be if Hajime and Chiaki were to change their relationship from platonic to romantic.

Hajime just can’t see Chiaki in that way. Honestly, he’s never really been romantically interested in a girl before. He’s been confessed to a few times in junior high but a relationship just never sounded all that appealing. Far too much effort, in his opinion. And he’s about to start his third year in a week. Preparing for entrance exams are going to be his top priority.

He’s passing by a thin alley when the loud crash of metal on concrete startles him. Hajime tenses, thinking it’s a thug since he’s not exactly in the safest of neighbourhoods, but as a cat scurries out, a blur of white-brown, Hajime sighs and quietly laughs at his paranoia. He continues on his way once his heart settles down, maybe at a slightly quicker pace, but is soon halted as a larger blur, although not all that large, is thrown out of the second floor window of the building he’s standing in front of. The blur turns out to be a boy dressed in black with blond hair cut close to his head.

“…” Hajime’s not sure whether to scream, run away, or ask if the guy is alright. He’s frozen in surprise and it’s a miracle that he didn’t drop his shopping bag. When gun shots fire from the building’s second floor and more windows shatter to the sound of angry yelling, fear is the only thing Hajime can comprehend.

The suicidal boy curses and springs up from his crouch to his feet. Hajime locks eyes with a pair of pale gold, an odd color he attributes to the less than optimal lighting.

_‘He’s downstairs!’_

_‘Jumped out the window!’_

_‘Go! Don’t let him escape!’_

Hajime belatedly realizes it’s not his lucky day. He takes a step back and is just about to spin around on the balls of his feet and run for all he’s worth but the window-jumping maniac is faster. The blond has a firm hold on Hajime’s wrist, with a strength he never would have associated with, at a closer look, such a small frame.

“Ah! I-I’m not—I didn’t see anything!” Hajime blurts out.

“Shut the fuck up, dumbass,” his assailant hisses. He’s tugging Hajime along before the brunet knows what’s happening. “Fuck. Just shut up and follow my lead if you want to live tonight.”

Hajime’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, half formed words trying to escape as he tries to get a comprehensible sentence out, but one sharp look from the blond stranger zips up all questions and complaints.

He’s pulled into the alley the cat from barely a few moments had run out of and they go a little deeper than Hajime is strictly comfortable with. It’s darker and grimier and he can barely see his hand, the wrist still locked firmly in the short boy’s iron grip.

_‘Spread out!’_

_‘Find him!’_

_Oh god_ , Hajime thinks. _What have I gotten myself into?_

“Shit.”

Hajime redirects his gaze from the mouth of the alley, panic on full display in his expression. He looks down at the current root of his problem and opens his mouth to ask what they should do, why was he being chased, _what the hell was going on_.

“I told you to _shut the fuck up_.”

 _Why are you allowed to talk then?_ Hajime sulks in his head. But if he can’t talk, he can gesture, so instead he jerks his head towards the shouting and footsteps that are getting discouragingly closer and then staring down back at the blond with wide eyes.

The blond scowls but seems to be thinking of something or another. Hopefully a plan better than running into an alley with a dead end. The footsteps are getting closer, barely a few meters away.

_‘Check this alley.’_

Hajime almost accepts the fact that he’s going to die tonight and that Chiaki was going to have either find a new midnight delivery boy or just be more aware of her menstrual cycle. He hopes his parents don’t take his death too badly. At least he won’t have to go to his part time job at the convenience store near his school again. His boss is a jerk but the pay’s good enough to stay.

His thoughts about his last moments are disrupted by the grip on his wrist vanishing, instead going to the collar of his shirt and tugging down sharply. Hajime braces himself on the wall, accidentally caging in the short blond in his attempt to regain his balance.

“Sorry—” Hajime’s cut off as another pressure grips a fistful of his hair and pushes down. His mouth is covered by something warm and slightly rough, but overall soft and seemingly pliant. His eyes can’t possible get any wider at this point.

The boy pulls back briefly to murmur, “Kiss me if you want to live. We’re out of options here.”

Hajime tries to question why, what, how, but the blond’s lips are on his again, more vicious and rough and forced than anything else. Hajime’s still frozen, doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do because he’s never really kissed or been kissed before. Silly games of spin the bottle or truth or dare in primary school and junior high don’t count. Besides, this feels different. He doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s about to die or he’s still trying to get his brain up to speed or that seemingly simple fact that he’s kissing another boy.

At this point, Hajime realizes he’s kissing the blond back. Tentative and gently, he’s not too sure he’s doing it right, and his eyes had drifted closed at some point during his little mental panic attack. But now he’s focused and paying attention. The boy is clumsy. They’re not really kissing so much as just mushing their closed mouths together and Hajime’s in a really awkward position with his hands still braced against the wall, clutching Chiaki’s ‘emergency supplies’, and his neck is craned down to the point he’s certain it’s going to be sore. He drops the bag but the sound of it falling to the floor startles the blond into making an aborted gasp, the hand fisting the front of Hajime’s shirt slipping up to hold the juncture where neck glides into shoulder. The cool, rough skin of the boy’s palm teases the little bit of Hajime’s skin not covered by his t-shirt. The little jump that presses them closer together is the final touch that seems to flick a dangerous switch in the back of Hajime’s mind.

Hajime’s hands land on the boy’s body. One goes to cradle the side of his head, the odd but pleasing texture of the blond’s close-shaved hair tickling Hajime’s palm. His fingers trace the design shaved into the side, feeling like two slightly wavy lines barely two centimeters thick. His other hand goes to the boy’s hip, palming the area where the bone is covered by skin and muscle and cotton, and stepping forward, crowding the boy into the wall until they’re flush together from lips to knees.

Someone’s walking towards them but Hajime can only focus on the blond’s mouth, hair, body. He opens his eyes slightly, half-lidded to see the blond as much as he can in the dull lighting. He can just make out a gentle smattering of freckles along cheeks that hold a reddish tint he’s pretty sure wasn’t there earlier. He’s got long lashes and his eyes are screwed shut. His mouth is a firm line.

Hajime parts his mouth just enough to test licking the seam of the shorter boy’s mouth. The reaction is a tightening fist at his shoulder and full body shudder. He does it again. Once, twice, thrice… By the fifth time, the boy parts his mouth the barest bit and Hajime slots their mouths together so it’s less like they’re smooshing their face against a more or less flat surface and actually kissing—teeth grazing, tongue licking but not diving, yet, lips pulling and pushing.

_‘Someone’s here.’_

Hajime’s neck is starting to hurt from bending it down for so long. It’s not that easy to kiss someone like this. He slides the hand at the boy’s hip down and around to the back of his thigh. The blond stills, lips pausing, eyes opening.

“What’re you doing, idiot?”

“My neck hurts. Hop up.”

“What?”

Hajime pulls up on the lean thigh he’s holding onto, getting the leg to hook around his waist. The blond stumbles as he’s pulled up on one side, the only way to even things out being to loop both his arms around Hajime’s neck and sling his other leg around Hajime’s waist, squeezing his knees together and locking his ankles. Hajime presses forward as much as he can so the shorter boy is sandwiched between the wall and Hajime’s chest, lessening the strain of holding up another person, even if he’s pretty light. Although the blond seems to be easily holding himself up with his arms without much aid from Hajime, but the brunet keeps a supportive hand on a thigh in any case.

They return to kissing, both more confident in testing the waters. There’s more tongue, clumsy and inexperienced as they both are, teeth knocking together and lips meeting sloppily. But it’s…strangely fun. Hajime’s almost forgotten that they were trying to run away from some gun-toting, probable murderers. He just wants to keep kissing the stranger in his arms. It’s _addicting_. He sort of gets why couples find any spare moment to kiss their significant other.

“Nng…” Hajime swallows the little whines, whimpers, and moans the blond makes, he seems to be trying to stifle them – somewhat unsuccessfully – whereas Hajime’s pretty quiet, keeping to low, pleased hums. His eyes are not quite closed. He can’t seem to make himself not look at the blond’s face, probably looking quite cross-eyed. The stranger’s closed his eyes again, the stain on his cheeks darker.

_‘It’s just a couple of kids. Fan out, the brat couldn’t have gotten far.’_

Footsteps retreat but the two boys continue like nothing happened. Like they really were two kids caught up in a not so private bubble just enjoying themselves and not a kid on the run for whatever reason and another who still has no idea what the hell is going on.

But with the blond’s arms around Hajime’s neck, skin flushed, and lips definitely swollen, the brunet doesn’t care all too much. He slips his hand down from the blond’s head to cup the back of his neck, trying to adjust the angle for optimal mouth placement. His skin is hot and smooth and soft.

Eventually, they have to pull off to breathe – plus, Hajime’s beginning to realize he’s been straining a bit, he’s never had amazing upper body strength – and Hajime stares at the stranger who’s still got his eyes closed. Their chests are heaving from exertion and Hajime carefully sets the blond back on his feet. When he finally opens his eyes, meeting Hajime’s green gaze, his face darkens.

“Back up, dumbass,” the boy scowls, pushing at Hajime’s chest and sending the burnet stumbling backwards. The blond avoids all eye contact as he brushes down his clothes, pulling a phone from a pocket. “We should be good. Where do you live?”

Hajime’s brain isn’t quite up to the task of remembering his address. He’s still reeling from his first real kiss, from the blond’s heat and sounds and taste. His brain’s melted into a syrupy mush.

“Hey! Where do you live, dumbass?”

“Oh uh, It’s not far from here.” Hajime stutters out his address at the blond’s blushing glare. He can’t help but think it’s an incredibly adorable expression.

The shorter boy nods and dials up someone on his phone, the other person quickly picking up.

“Peko? Yeah. Slight complications but nothing I couldn’t handle. A civilian got involved but he doesn’t know anything.” The stranger went from blushing adorably to stern and in charge so fast, Hajime’s already spinning head was turned a few more times. But the color on his cheeks hadn’t faded completely and he was still avoiding direct eye contact with Hajime. “Yes. We’ll wait here.”

The blond finishes his phone call to ‘Peko’ – odd name in Hajime’s opinion, but he wisely does not comment – and tucks his phone away. He runs a hand through his short hair – Hajime’s hand tingles with ghost sensations of having the cropped locks under his palm – and leans against the wall, facing Hajime but _still_ not looking directly at him.

“My people will be here soon, just to make sure those fuckers aren’t hanging around,” the blond explains.

“Oh,” Hajime nods. _His people? Just who is this guy?_ “Uh, why were they after you?”

“Nothing you need to know, dumbass.”

 _Okay then_ , Hajime quickly realizes asking questions is a bad idea. They stand in silence waiting for the blond’s ‘people’. Hajime finds his shopping bag and is relieved to see that nothing’s spilled. The ice cream’s probably taken a more soup-like consistency but Chiaki will survive.

The blond’s phone buzzes eventually and he checks it quickly before putting it away, calling to Hajime, “It’s clear.”

Hajime follows after the shorter boy back onto the main road. Two sleek black cars are parked along the side walk, two men in black suits standing guard. The backdoor of the first car opens and a girl with silver hair tied into two braids steps out. The sword bag strapped to her back is a little out of place but Hajime keeps his mouth shut for once. When she looks up, Hajime’s startled by the color of her eyes, bright red. _Do they all just have unusual eye colors?_ he wonders.

“Young master,” the girl bows.

_Young master? Just who is he? And I still haven’t got a name…_

She scans the blond briefly before directing her sharp gaze to Hajime. Hajime smiles uneasily. “Shall I dispose of him?”

It takes a moment before Hajime realizes that she’s talking about him. He startles and jumps away when the apparently crazy girl reaches up behind her to grab her sword.

“What? No! I didn’t even do anything!” Hajime cries out, hiding behind the blond since he doubts – hopes – that the girl won’t attack him if he has her ‘young master’ in front of him.

“Peko, he’s fine. He…” the blond turns his head away and Hajime can see a hint of red creeping up the back of his neck. “He helped me out. Now let’s go home, I was just waiting for you guys to clear the area.” He turns to Hajime. “Thank you for your help. You should be able to get home without any further disturbances.”

“Oh, uh, no problem. Thank you.” Hajime takes his cue to leave and nods to the boy, Peko, and the two bodyguards before finally continuing on his way home. He glances over his shoulder one last time to see the blond talking in hushed tones to one of the bodyguards. He’s staring a little too long so when the blond looks toward him, their eyes finally meet again. Hajime feels his face light up and he can see that the blond’s does the same. He waves quickly and speed walks, practically runs, back home. The whole way back, he swears someone’s following him but it’s dead quiet with no one in sight so he puts it off to being extra on edge after his far too eventful night.

When he’s in his house and makes up some excuse to his parents about being out for so long and his flushed complexion, he goes to his room where Chiaki is playing a new game in his bed.

“What took you so long?” she asks him without pausing from her game.

Hajime sighs and wipes his face with his hand. Gold eyes and a dark blush under freckles flash every time he closes his eyes.

“Bumped into someone interesting.”


End file.
